


save the battles for the boardroom

by dexwebster



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: D/s, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexwebster/pseuds/dexwebster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was "Steve/Tony/Pepper D/s: Tony wants to be a good boy, he really does. He just doesn't quite know how. Pepper's spent years giving him structure and rules and boundaries, and now it's time to bring Steve in on the job."</p><p>Which pretty much covers it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save the battles for the boardroom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for synecdochic's [Oh My God We Need Some Porn In Here Stat Porn Meme](http://synecdochic.dreamwidth.org/510928.html).

Where—when—Steve is from, a stand-up guy always opened a door or took his hat off for a lady, and didn't run around on his girl. Things have gotten a little more complicated than that, these days. Most men don't wear hats, not every lady wants a door opened for her, and there's not just running around, there's running _with_. Which is why Steve is sitting on a sofa in Tony's hotel suite with Pepper tucked under his arm. She is, as she frequently is when they're alone together, trying to protect his delicate sensibilities from the finer points of Tony Stark's psychology. It's unnecessary for the most part, but he appreciates it all the same.

"Tony pushes people," she tells him. "It's what he does. That doesn't mean he needs or even wants to get away with it."

Tony walks out of the bathroom scrubbing a towel over his head, bare chested. "What am I getting away with?" he says, muffled. The fine hairs below his navel are still damp, Steve notices, peeking out above his unbuttoned trousers.

"More than you should, it sounds like," Steve says.

Tony pauses, just too long to be comfortable, asks coyly, "Pepper, have you been telling lies about me?"

"I thought it only fair that he knew what he was getting into."

"I think that's safe to assume given that we became very well acquainted in a professional capacity before he agreed to enter negotiations." Tony slings the towel around his neck, hanging onto both ends. "Right, Steve?"

"Mostly," Steve admits. "I'd be lying if I said there weren't a few surprises." He looked down at Pepper. "How did you phrase it?" he asked her. "'Mouthing off is no fun if you're the one in charge'?"

"That is—" Tony starts, then, "no, it's actually completely accurate." He shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a rebel."

Pepper pokes Tony's leg with her toe, revealing the band and garter of her stockings. Steve has to remind himself he's not being rude if he doesn't look away. "A brat's more like it," she says, and turns her head to look at Steve, hair tickling his arm. "Which is why Tony is _not_ the one in charge here."

"There are many reasons why Tony's not in charge here," Tony says. "Partly because left to his own devices he'd try to bankrupt the company buying you lingerie. Of course you might manage it via buying yourself _shoes_."

"Christmas bonus," Pepper says primly, leaning forward to look at the spiky heels upended on the floor in front of the sofa. The deep crimson soles in the corner of Steve's vision are almost comforting, even if they aren't quite the shade of red he's used to seeing there.

"It's August, Ms. Potts."

"These things happen, Mr. Stark," Pepper says, voice full of warmth and not all of it from humor. If this is how they flirt, board meetings must be hell.

Tony leans down and gives them each a brief kiss, as unsuggestive as Tony can get, a hello more than anything. He doesn't stand up, because Pepper grabs both ends of the towel around his neck. Tony waits a long moment, bent awkwardly over the both of them. He puts his hand on the back of the couch for balance. Keeps waiting."This is going to hurt my back really soon."

"Poor baby," Pepper says, with no sympathy at all.

"Y'know," Tony says, nonchalant, "the coercion is not necessary. If you want me on my knees all you have to do is say so."

Pepper doesn't. She raises her eyebrows, perfectly serene. Tony huffs and drops to his knees anyway, throws the towel to the side as Pep releases it (which, Steve thinks, he could've ducked out of at any time he was leaning over her). The glass of the arc reactor is fogged with condensation and Tony's hair is shining, damp.

"So a few weeks ago, do you remember what you told me? Something about Steve."

"A lot of things, probably, some of them more flattering than others, I'm sure, but I don't think any of them need to be repeated."

"What's the rule?"

"No sex in the champagne room?"

Pepper has warned Steve a few times that Tony likes things a little different than he's probably used to, but her yanking Tony's head back by the hair is still shocking in its suddenness and Steve winces along with Tony as he sucks in a breath. "No arguing!" he yelps. "No arguing."

"Exactly," Pepper says. "Because we do enough of that at work and I'm sure you and Steve do too." It's hard not to jump in and defend Tony, tell her that work isn't that bad, but he knows that's not the point. _Doesn't want to get away with it_ , Pepper had said. Her hand tightens in Tony's hair again, slower this time and he breathes out a soft, oh, low in his throat and sort of—melts, shoulders going loose, eyes closed. "You know what I mean, Tony. Why don't you tell Steve what you want?"

"I want to suck him off." Tony's voice is hushed.

"Don't tell me," she says gently, "tell him," and she lifts his head and relaxes, stroking his hair.

"I do," he says. "I've been thinking about it for forever, since you mentioned never really getting to, uh, get serious with Peggy. When I thought you were dating Agent Carter—our Agent Carter—I got really pissed because I thought she was going to beat me to it. Like Pep said, I told her weeks ago, because really, what is there not to love about 'Steve Rogers: peak of human perfection and blowjob virgin'?"

"I'm not—"

"Perfect, I know," Tony says, with a look that would almost be embarrassed on anyone who, well, has any shame. "I know that. You're kind of a princess and you make _the_ most godawful, ugliest face I have ever seen when you sneeze, and you're really really stubborn. But those are for the best really, because if you were actually perfect there'd be fistfights, stopped traffic, jealousy-induced suicides—in short, mass hysteria. So for the sake of humanity, it's your duty, really, to have some imperfections." He shrugs. "Either way, I've basically been gagging for it for months." If Tony doesn't have any shame it's because he is, above everything else, unapologetically _Tony_. It's one of the things Steve loves about him.

"What do you think, Steve, should we let him?"

"I'm all for it," he says, because no matter how much Tony has given him a hard time about it, he's not that much of a prude. "If that's okay," he adds, a little embarrassed. Ladies first and all that, and Steve most definitely does have shame. "Not that I think you would've said so if it weren't, I just don't want to be presumptuous, because even in my day, I knew that women not liking it was bull, from the girls in the USO show: now those were ladies who would take what they wanted—"

Pepper kisses him, just once, which is more than enough to shut him up, for which he is very grateful. "You really are sweet." She shifts on the couch, turning to face Steve more directly and sit on her heels, hand on his cheek instead of on Tony. She feels delicate—not something he thinks of much as tall as she is—but right now it feels right, the way her slim waist fits into the curve of his arm.

"So about that cock-sucking we talked about," Tony says from the floor.

"Ignore him," Pepper tells Steve as she leans over him. "He's a hopeless exhibitionist."

He huffs a breathless chuckle against her cheek. "That's not news."

"Key thing to remember. He gets to say what he wants, we get to _do_ what we want." He knows she can't read his mind, he knows that, but she's smiling at him like she can, gentle and inescapable. Most people would say Pepper is normal because she's a not a mutant or a super soldier or an alien or even a mechanical genius. Steve knows better. "So relax," she says, and the smile turns flirty, "and do what you want."

"Then yes, please."

"Thank _fuck_ ," Tony says, head falling against Steve's knee again, and Steve laughs, runs his hand through Tony's hair the way Pepper had. Tony's slumps forward, head a dead weight against Steve's leg. His hair is still damp at the roots. Steve scratches at them with his fingertips, massaging, and Tony's doing his damnedest to push into Steve's hand without moving his head, neck rolling and extending up and up, like the yoga poses Natasha's been showing him.

Pepper turns his head, and Steve is glad have her as a safety net, a gatekeeper to all the parts of Tony he doesn't know yet, and a distraction when he's too tangled up inside at the idea of what to do, where to look. Watching Tony feels no less than obscene. He can't thank her with words, but he tightens his arm to pull her in closer and kisses her to put Clark Gable to shame. The arousal that's been a slow build until now blindsides him, leaves him dumb with it, so all he can do at the feel of the hands on the fly of his khakis is arch into it, head tipped back against the sofa. It is both of them he's sure, Pepper and Tony, because his shirt's being untucked by gentle, dancing fingers and the zipper and his boxers attacked with swift efficiency, rougher than strictly comfortable and all the better for it. The fumbling is a blur, the scrape of a rough callus, Tony's greedy lips touching all over. Steve can feel his pulse throbbing as he gets hard in Tony's hand: in his cock, in his temples, all the way down to the pulse points in his thumbs, thudding against Pepper's side and the pillow he's grabbed.

Pepper hums happily and murmurs, "There you go," low and teasing. Steve can only imagine she's talking to him. Tony hardly needs the encouragement, lavishing Steve with attention and making noises like it feels as good for him. Steve gasps suddenly at the sudden assault of being engulfed in wet heat, Tony's nose bumping his stomach, and looks down on instinct. Pepper's hand is in Tony's hair, almost white with the strength of her grip. She kisses Steve, lush and open-mouthed, and doesn't let go, holds Tony down until he makes a choked, gurgling sound that Steve is ashamed to say sends a throb of pleasure up his spine. The back of his throat is a quivering pressure. Steve is lost in it, both of them, the languorous, syrupy warmth of Pepper's kisses, the shuddering heat of Tony's mouth as she pushes him down again and again.

"Tony," he gasps, broken, trying to warn him but it's Pepper who answers, "go ahead, it's fine." He pants into her mouth as he comes in hot spurts, muscles contracting, Tony's throat squeezing convulsively around him while he trembles. Tony stays like that, forehead resting low on Steve's belly, well after Steve has gone quiet.

"Don't let him fall asleep like that," Pepper whispers, for his ears only. He'd suspect she's joking but Tony really does seem content to stay like that as long as Steve will let him. His hand meets hers in Tony's hair, fingers fumbling over each other as they pet him. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't an appealing thought, but they're better off in a bed where Tony won't wake up with a crick in his neck and aching knees, so Steve tugs gently to get his attention.

"Let's get you off the floor." Tony moves willingly enough, though not without a few last gentle licks—cleaning, Steve thinks, because Tony has many flaws but sloppy workmanship is not one of them—and he laughs.

"Well," Tony says, pointedly looking at Pepper, "having someone else fuck my mouth with your dick wasn't really what I was thinking for a first time, but I think a good time was had by all." He pulls a face. "Sorry, too crude? Endorphins are killer on the brain-to-mouth filter, and before you say anything yes I do actually have one." His mouth is very red. Steve wants to kiss him. Because he can, because he's wanted to since Tony walked out of the bathroom, because he's curious to know if his lips will feel different, plump and tender from the friction of hard use.

"Tony," he says, and moves his hand to Tony's jaw, rubbing his thumb along the cheekbone as he leans in, "Stop talking."


End file.
